By the light of lesser mortals
by Ayla Pascal
Summary: The glitter of ambition was an unseemly thing for a young woman, but Dolores had always wanted to make a difference. If she couldn't do it in the Department of Magical Maintenance, then she'd look elsewhere.


**Author Notes**: Thank you to aigooism for the beta!

It was only two weeks into her first job, but already Dolores Umbridge knew that she _hated_ it. It wasn't as though she was afraid of hard work; she'd have never survived in Hufflepuff for seven years if that was the case. It was just that she knew that she was destined for something greater than scribbling receipts to messages and charming nameplates for meetings. She deserved to be making policy where it mattered, where she could make a _difference_. It galled her. She had got over seven NEWTs. She was better than this! And she was pretty sure that she was a damn sight smarter than her immediate supervisor.

Robert Kettle was a ponderous man, with spectacles that threatened to fall off his nose. Dolores longed to reach over and push them up. Surely a man of his age and stature ought to pay more attention to his appearance. His patchy robes gave her a distinctly unsavoury feeling. No pureblood should ever let their robes fall to such disrepair. ("Purebloods don't wear dirty, unkempt clothing, dear," her mum had always said.)

"Miss Umbridge, are you busy?"

Startled, Dolores looked up and forced a cheerful smile, readying herself for yet another half hour speech before Kettle got to the point. "No, not at all. Is there anything I can do?"

Kettle settled himself down on the chair in front of her. Dolores winced as she saw him brush dust off his robes. "There is a task that I would like you to help me with. The last Senior Executive Committee meeting decided that we need to set up another layer of governance for the Weather Control Board. The WCB's Chair has decided that this is the only way to deal with the problems within the board. Did you know that just last month they approved a whole week's worth of hail? You know what the hail does to everybody's nerves."

Dolores couldn't help staring at the small hole in Kettle's robes that his right index finger was currently fiddling with. "Of course," she said calmly, but inside she was seething. Out of all the departments she could have ended up in, she got Magical Maintenance. There was absolutely nothing interesting about mop buckets and windows.

"They need somebody to help them set up the committee that will report to the WCB," Kettle continued. He beamed at her. "I thought that you could help them book the meeting room. You did such a good job with the nameplates yesterday."

Dolores bit back a groan. Of course, she had done a good job with the nameplates. Any first year at Hogwarts could have done that. "I can do that." She supposed that she was lucky that he hadn't gone into the history of the WCB like he did the previous two days. A hundred years of history was completely unnecessary. Then again, that was probably why he was stuck in Magical Maintenance where he couldn't do any real damage.

Kettle reached over and patted her on the shoulder. "I appreciate all the work you've done here over the past week. We need more bright young minds like yours."

She wondered whether her smile was getting stiff. Her mouth certainly felt like it was stretched thin, like sandpaper. "Glad to help."

Dolores watched as Kettle walked away and waited until he had disappeared back into his office before her shoulders slumped. She wasn't sure she could take much more of this. Surely it would get better. She had wanted to work in the Ministry ever since she was a child. She wanted the work she did to _count_ for something, to change what was _wrong_in the world and to make it a safer place.

Her nose wrinkled.

That _definitely_ wasn't going to happen here.

* * *

><p>The job didn't get much better.<p>

At times, Kettle managed to ramble on for a full ten minutes without telling her anything useful. From him, she learned about the history of every single committee within the department, and then she wondered why on earth they needed over twenty committees. She needed at least ten inches of parchment just to draw them out visually so she could remember how they were structured. They really didn't need so many. It wasn't as though the department did anything _useful_.

Dolores leaned back in her chair and sighed. She longed to be in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Or even the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She had heard that RCMC always needed new staff members, especially the Beast Division. Of course, she didn't want to be stuck there like some people, but it had to be better than trying to think about mops and brooms (not even the fun kind!) all day.

A waft of perfume hit her nose as a co-worker breezed by to talk to one of the people in the next cubicle. "Want to grab a coffee?"

"Sure!"

Dolores rolled her eyes as she heard her co-workers disappear down to the cafe again. She made another little mark in her notebook. It was the fifth coffee for one of them and the third for the other. Not once had she been invited along. Of course, she wouldn't have wanted to go. She'd heard them talking too much about Muggle gadgets. While she could understand a superficial interest, there were _limits_. It was unseemly to be that interested in Muggles and Muggle things.

At least, she knew she was more productive than them. Dolores comforted herself with that fact as she adjusted the pink flower pin on her cardigan. She would rise above them one day. And then they'd realise the mistake they'd made.

* * *

><p>It took her over two years to escape the Department of Magical Maintenance. Two years of seething behind a cheerful smile. Two long years of working with the same people every day.<p>

Dolores knew that her co-workers weren't particularly fond of her, which was okay because she wasn't particularly fond of them either. She found them to be simpering fools and, in turn, they found her overly ambitious. She didn't enjoy the same interests as them. In fact, she cringed every time they brought up Muggle topics. Why couldn't they understand that there were far more interesting and worthy wizarding books out there? She had nothing against Muggles, as long as they stayed in their place. They had their own world and as long as they stayed there, Dolores had no problems with them. It wasn't as though she was prejudiced against them or anything like that. No, it was nothing like that. They were just _different_.

Too different.

Dolores had seen it happen slowly over the last ten or so years. The Muggle world was contaminating theirs, and she couldn't let that happen. The wizarding world was no place for Muggle-borns, she thought grimly. They belonged in the Muggle world. Their magic was inferior to that of pure-blooded witches and wizards. Most of her co-workers couldn't seem to see that, but many of them were half-bloods anyway. She couldn't expect them to see past their own genetic failings.

It was quite fortunate, Dolores thought, that she was pure-blooded. She shuddered to think what it would have been like if she had been born a half-blood. Or worse.

"My dear," her mother said when they met up for their weekly dinner, her fingers fluttering over her robes, smoothing down invisible creases. "I do hope you're not associating with those types of people."

"Of course not," Dolores reassured her.

Her mother gave her a faint smile. "And have you left that terrible place yet?"

"Soon." Dolores leaned over to kiss her mother on the cheek.

Two years and three weeks after she had landed in that terrible place, Dolores received notification of her transfer to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

* * *

><p>The revision of the werewolf legislation (or the anti-werewolf legislation, as Dolores privately called it) was the first major project she got to work. It wasn't an important piece of work. In fact, it was one of the business-as-usual tasks of the Beast Division. The werewolf legislation had to be reviewed annually. Some bright person had decided that over fifty years ago, and since then, it had been easier to simply review the legislation than to change that regulation.<p>

Dolores picked up the amended legislation and scanned it. "I don't see a difference."

Betty pursed her lips. "I changed the dates," she pointed out. "Here, here and here." She jabbed her index finger at the parchment.

Dolores swallowed a sharp retort. How on earth had it taken Betty half a day to change three dates? "I believe we need to make more changes," she said. Betty was a few levels above her in the division. She needed to tread carefully.

"Oh?"

"The legislation is missing a vital element."

"Which is?"

"Werewolves are a danger to society," Dolores said flatly. "The legislation doesn't seem to take that into account." She raised her hand before Betty could continue. "Hear me out. Every month, they become rabid creatures, hungry for human flesh. That's the cold hard truth. I admit that _some_of these werewolves are harmless at other times, but we simply cannot risk it. Imagine if a werewolf worked at Hogwarts." She shuddered.

Betty snorted. "That's never going to happen," she pointed out.

"Then what if they work late? What if they forget?" Dolores asked. "Can we really take that risk? Would you want to work in the office with a werewolf?"

Betty hesitated.

Dolores felt triumph well up inside her. She smoothed her features into a concerned expression. "Of course, you wouldn't," she said soothingly. "But we need to think of public safety first."

"But they're human," Betty protested.

"Exactly," Dolores said flatly. "They _are_human and therefore fallible. We can't leave it up to them to regulate themselves. We need to save them from themselves."

Betty gave her a dubious look.

"Think about it," Dolores offered. This was too important to her to let go so easily, but Betty didn't need to know that. "Meanwhile, I'll write up that brief." Reaching over, Dolores plucked the papers off Betty's desk. "I know you wanted to leave early today."

The smile Betty gave her was faltering, but Dolores still felt a flare of triumph.

* * *

><p>Six months later, the <em>Daily Prophet<em> led with the article: _Ministry reveals new public safety werewolf laws_.

The slightly smaller text below read: _Werewolves must get permits to work_.

Dolores felt a warm flush of pride as she looked at the newspaper. It didn't credit her, but those were her laws and everybody important in the Ministry knew that. She had an integral part in protecting public welfare. Dolores knew, without a doubt, that everybody was safer now, and it was all because of her. She could move onto newer, greener pastures with the assurance that she had done something to help the wizarding world. She had made her mark.

* * *

><p>The next few years were smooth sailing for Dolores, but it wasn't until she met Cornelius Fudge that Dolores realised what it was like to have a friend in the workplace. Everybody else she had worked with had either been incompetent or had found her ambition unseemly. Cornelius understood her. For one thing, he was just as ambitious as she was, if not more so. Their ambitions ran parallel, but didn't cross. Cornelius wanted to be Minister; he saw true power in politics and Dolores was more than happy to let him continue to believe that.<p>

She was the smarter one, but she never seemed to be able to talk to people like Cornelius could. People underestimated him because he always seemed so affable. Dolores found that she tended to put people on edge, whereas Cornelius always put them at ease with a simple smile.

It was Cornelius who introduced her to Lucius Malfoy. He didn't know it at the time, but it was her ticket up in the Ministry and his too. Lucius knew people. He knew their dirty little secrets. It was a nasty business. Dolores preferred the direct method, but she knew that it didn't always work. Lucius was a good person to have on her side and Dolores was determined to have him as part of her arsenal.

* * *

><p>Lucius gave her a measured look. "Have you ever wondered how Muggle-borns get their magic?"<p>

Dolores felt a thrill of excitement. There was a look in Lucius's eyes that spoke of the coming of a new age. "Well, that's not really my area," she said tartly.

Lucius smirked. "I'm well aware of that." There was a sharp edge to his words. "But I'm sure that an intelligent woman like you has thought about how non-magical folk could suddenly have a magical child. That sort of spontaneous mutation _could_happen, but it's a rare event. Did you know that the number of Muggle-born children in our society has been steadily rising since the turn of the last century?"

Dolores didn't know that, but she kept her mouth shut. There was something about Lucius Malfoy that made her feel like she was always on the back foot. She didn't particularly like the superior look on his face, but she had to admit that his words made sense. "Do you have proof of any of this?"

Lucius reached over and picked up a pile of parchments. He handed them to her.

She looked dubiously at the title page. "This isn't a Ministry study."

"The Ministry's corrupt," Lucius said flatly. "It's been infiltrated by Muggle-borns."

Privately, Dolores wondered if he was a bit paranoid. She didn't like working with Muggle-borns, but she didn't see a conspiracy. "It has?" she asked calmly. There was no harm in pretending she hadn't heard those rumours before. "I've never heard anything like that before."

Lucius smirked and gave her a look that made Dolores feel as though he was looking right through her. "Not in the traditional way, of course," he said. "But the Ministry panders to the Muggle threat. And believe me, there is a dire threat towards our way of life."

Dolores sat back in her chair and sipped her cup of tea. The warm liquid slid down her throat. "Please, tell me more," she said smoothly.

* * *

><p>Cornelius looked flushed as he stopped by the door. "I didn't tell you this earlier because I wasn't sure what you were going to say, but I guess now's as good a time as any to tell you. I'm going to run for Minister next year."<p>

Dolores felt a flicker of surprise, but she schooled her features into a congratulatory look. "That's wonderful," she said warmly.

"And of course, once I'm Minister, you'll get your dream job too," Cornelius reassured her. "I help my friends."

Dolores pressed her lips together. "Of course."

Cornelius gave her a bright grin as the door closed behind him.

Dolores frowned as she stared at the shut door. She wasn't going to owe anything to Cornelius, even though he was her friend. She hadn't planned on getting a promotion this year, but it looked like she would have to. She was not going to see Cornelius do better than her.

* * *

><p>With a satisfied look, Dolores closed the door and smiled. She had finally made it. She'd even beaten Cornelius by a few days. He was only sworn in as Minister last week. The shiny plaque on the door read:<p>

_**Dolores Umbridge**_**  
>Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic<strong>

Some people couldn't seem to understand why she was so happy with her position. ("You're not exactly high up," her sister objected. "Just a glorified secretary, really.") Dolores's lips always twitched whenever people said that. They just didn't get it. As much as she respected Cornelius, he simply didn't have any power in their political system. The true power came from people like her, the bureaucrats. And Dolores was the most senior bureaucrat in the Ministry.

Of course, she let Cornelius think that he was powerful. There wasn't any harm in letting him think that. After all, they were friends. He didn't need to know that she was the power behind his position. Anybody who meant anything in the wizarding world knew that, and she knew that if Cornelius were to stray from the right path, she'd be in the best position to either steer him back or to replace him.

"Congratulations," Cornelius murmured at a private celebratory dinner they had last week. "We both made it."

Dolores clinked her glass against his. "We made it," she echoed.

Cornelius gave her a smile that was part congratulatory and part self-congratulatory. Dolores knew that he took credit for her rapid rise through the Ministry.

She smiled faintly. If only he knew.

-fin


End file.
